CHAPTER SIXTEEN
This time, Ilse and Sawyer took the same car from the field office. Ilse's hand shook as Sawyer guided the sedan into the parking spot outside the home. In the fading light of the afternoon, the house looked neat, well-maintained. As they approached the open door, Ilse spotted the many locks and chains, custom built into the metal frame.
Whoever owned the house was safety conscious.
Abigail Rubin. That's what Agent Rawley had said.
Ahead of them, standing on the porch, Ilse spotted a local cop, keeping an eye on the street, and making sure no looky-loos got too close. Inside the house, she also spotted people moving around, carefully navigating the crime scene.
“FBI?” the cop said, glancing shrewdly as they approached. Her eyebrows rose as her gaze settled on Sawyer, s
